


Sweet Dreams

by angelofgrief



Category: DC Animated Universe, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Food, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofgrief/pseuds/angelofgrief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on my own prompt:</p>
<p>Sometimes, Wally dreams of the Speed Force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the link - http://abaddonsays.tumblr.com/post/148067038478
> 
> Also, this is written in Bruce's POV and takes place, I suppose, at the end of the JLU series. This is also my excuse for more Batflash because really, I need more.

When Bruce Wayne gets home, it's only a little past two in the morning.

He considers it a lucky break because it's Thursday and his patrol was cut short to an hour. For some odd reasons, the amount of supervillians (or notorious villains) increased as the week went by and decreased by Monday. Like it was a day job or something.

Though, to be fair, nobody really enjoyed waking up on Mondays, even if it was breaking the law and/or committing mass panic and hysteria among the masses.

Still, it's Bruce Wayne, not Batman, that enters through the door. He had already stripped out of his heavy Kevlar suit and armor and Alfred already informed him that he had company upstairs. He left the cave wearing nothing but his sweatpants, courtesy of Alfred and had opted out of the black tee despite protests (he didn't forget to say goodnight to Alfred).

As he heads up the stairs, a part of him had hoped his company had stayed up, waiting for him. Realistically, he knew that there would be a very slim chance that his company actually did.

Wally was even more busy in Central City ever since that whole bomb fiasco.

Bruce slowly turned the doorknob and was pleasantly surprised to see a sound, sleeping Wally in the middle of his bed. Not the side, of course, as if he wasn't coming home at all. Just... in the middle of the bed.

His left arm was splayed near the door, twitching like he was grabbing something and the other arm was across his chest. Both of his legs were out, though they seemed a bit twitchy, like he couldn't get enough running through the day. Usually, his mouth would be open and he'd either be snoring or mumbling something, but as of now, it was closed with a scrunched up expression.

Bruce had a soft smile on his face and gently scooted him over to one side. He complied with no protest and curled his legs up and arms against himself, grumbling something.

It's nights like these that Bruce eagerly take in. Though there was no moon out to highlight the skies, the stars did their jobs. Even in the dark, Wally's bright red hair seemed tamed and... manageable, if he had to put a word to it. Both of things that aren't meant to be put in relation when regarding Wally. He hears the soft crickets outside, despite the windows being closed and from time to time, he'll see a firefly or two drifting about. It isn't cold but he wraps around Wally's torso and pulls him closer to his chest.

He's about to drift into everlasting slumber when the body he's holding tenses up.

Bruce opens his eyes, bright blue even against the dark, and stares at the mess of red hair in front of him.

Sometimes, Wally would get nightmares.

They usually range from the realistic (usually relating to Luthor or another in the League) to the most ridiculous thing out there.

> _ “B-Bruce, it just— it never existed,” _
> 
> _ “What didn't?” _
> 
> _ “Halal... it just... proof!” _
> 
> _ “...” _
> 
> _ “...” _
> 
> _ “... Bruce, I need comfort. Please?” _
> 
> _ “Go the fuck to sleep, Wally,” _
> 
> _ He remembers that moment specifically because this was after he had pulled three all-nighters in a row. Still, it didn't stop Wally from wrapping his arms around him when he turned and faced the other side. Nor did it stop the smile pressed against his back as he continuously mumbled for comfort. He had bought some halal the next night when he came over. _

Bruce watched as his breathing started to slow down. His arm, that had swung back open when he switched positions, stopped moving and Bruce could feel the steady pulse in his body slowly drop but it never disappeared.

He squeezed his fist as he brought Wally closer to him. He hated this nightmare.

Wally used to call them dreams because he was never in any real danger. Bruce calls them nightmares because he sees them as Wally's having them and they are not, in any way, dreams.

Bruce holds on a bit too tightly and closes his eyes, trying to even his breathing and heart rate. He pushes his face against the mess of red and relaxes his hand. He kind of wishes that Wally was dreaming his usual nightmares: disappearing taco stands, giant electric yellow mice, the Justice League giving him actual homework.

Anything but this.

He slowly opens his eyes as he feels the slow pulse throughout his body return back to normal. His grip on him slowly loosens and he hears a small hum of awakening. When Wally slowly turns around to face him, Bruce has no idea what he sees. He hopes he doesn’t notice the crease in his brows, even as he tries to straighten it, or he hopes he doesn’t have a hard look in his eyes.

Bruce wants Wally to think that he’s just staring openly. Not visibly frighten or discomforted. Not worried or sad.

Wally moves in a bit closer, pushing his head towards the crook of his neck and wrapping two arms around him. His skin flutters at the fingers down his back, tracing nondescript patterns. Bruce entertains the thought of Wally marking him for a bit, to try and lighten his mood.

“I’m sorry,” he feels more than he says.

Bruce draws him against his body and unconsciously nods. He shifts a bit and now, Wally’s fully on top of him, never letting go, with legs tangling around. Sometimes, this happens whenever Wally dreams. They usually end in sex but, on rare occasions, where sex can’t voice what they really feel, what questions they have for each other, they often lay together. If he squeezes his waist a bit as he leans down to inhale the mess of red hair, Wally doesn’t complain.

“Do you like it?”

Bruce doesn’t mean for it to come out but… Wally raises his head and he’s staring back at eyes that shouldn’t be so green, especially since they’re drowning in darkness. He remembers what Wally said the first time (the last time) he went into the Speed Force.

> _ “It’s so peaceful here, Shayera…” _

“No,” Wally says, “I mean, I don’t know”.

Bruce looks at him a bit confused but doesn’t discourage him if he wants to continue.

“It’s just… The thing with Luthor and Brainiac was— I mean I was going so fast, all I wanted was to stop and rest. I was just tired. Tired like I never was before, Bats,”

Bruce smiles a bit at the nickname and hums in approval. He understands that sense of perpetual weariness. It isn’t something that can be fixed by sleep, sometimes even, it can’t be fixed no matter how many criminals are locked up with keys thrown away.

“I’m just, oh god, I’m so sorry, Bruce. I-I…”

He sees desperation in his green eyes as he feels hands hold his face.

The kiss is soft and closemouthed, desperate but scared. Bruce doesn’t like the feel of it— whenever he gives anything to Wally, he would always respond with taking. He puts an arm around his waist and deepens the kiss, coaxing his mouth open. It’s not sexually inviting but still holds the burn in their kisses.

Wally doesn’t have to explains, he thinks as he rolls them over.

When they break away, Bruce is looking down at sun kissed skin and green eyes with a small smile on his face. He feels the peppered kisses against his face in silent apologies. He smiles against it and presses a return kiss on his forehead.

“I’m here, Wally. Anything you want, I’m here,”

Two arms wrap around his neck and he’s pulled down and greeted with a nasty grin and an open invitation.

“So… does that mean I get to bring food to the bed?”

“No,”

“But you said anything, Bruce!”

“Even if I did say yes, do you think Alfred would let you?”

“Ah… maybe…”

Wally looks towards the door and he can see the gears slowly turning in his head. Bruce laughs quietly as he imagines the coaxing Wally would have to do to even have food in the room. He trails his lips down the exposed neck and rolls a bit so that Wally’s back against his chest.

“Go to sleep and tell me your plan tomorrow morning, Wally,”

“Bruce, I am _so_ gonna bring nachos in here one day,”

“It’s three in the morning,”

“Hmm nachos…”


End file.
